


Maybe, more.

by alezander



Category: Original Work
Genre: M/M, Masturbation, Orphans, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-01
Updated: 2018-04-01
Packaged: 2019-04-16 20:16:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14172594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alezander/pseuds/alezander
Summary: This was written while listening to Paramore's I Caught Myself, which is the song I use to figure out which earphone is the left one when I'm half asleep. Low-key dedicating this to the awesome band that I've been listening to for almost a decade.Intentionally wanted to portray "not-too-sneaky-type", but rather, "watching-is-enough-type" of voyeurism.Entry for YaoiOtaku's BL Writer's Contest for November 2017 with the theme "F E T I S H".





	Maybe, more.

**Author's Note:**

> This was written while listening to Paramore's I Caught Myself, which is the song I use to figure out which earphone is the left one when I'm half asleep. Low-key dedicating this to the awesome band that I've been listening to for almost a decade.
> 
> Intentionally wanted to portray "not-too-sneaky-type", but rather, "watching-is-enough-type" of voyeurism.
> 
> Entry for YaoiOtaku's BL Writer's Contest for November 2017 with the theme "F E T I S H".

I thought he was plain. That was all. A boring specimen, he was. But with him, I'm never sure of anything. With him, I don't recognize myself. If it's him, I don't know what I want.

We're orphans, he and I. Being the same age, the elders who managed the place roomed us together. And that was fine, but we weren't friends.

He was a timid, wee lamb. As a roommate, he was tidy and considerate. He sometimes talked to me, but not much. Never too much. He kept a safe distance between us, which was cozy enough for me.

But I started thinking otherwise the day I caught him touching himself. It was around midnight and I had woken up feeling thirsty as hell when I noticed him still awake even though we already said goodnight hours before. Peering through the darkness, I noticed the way he tipped his head back, the urgent bend of his legs, the sensual dip of his waist. His right hand moved incessantly while his other hand clutched his pillow against his mouth to muffle his harsh breathing.

Seeing him do such a thing was a surprise. Plain, timid, boring. This was my image of him. But after seeing him so frantic, his hair messed and his skin all sweaty, something stirred in me and I could not look away.

Every night, I secretly watch him from my bed. "Father... Father..." He'd mumble while his fingers dug into his pillow and he'd climax silently, burying his face. From the many nights I watched him, I learned that he was in love with the priest who picked us off the street and brought us together. _Stupid lamb_ , I wanted to say but never did. I never say anything. He'll never know what I know.

But one afternoon, I walked in one him by accident. It was unexpected, and he looked panicked.

"What, aren't you going to continue?"

The words were already out my mouth before I could stop myself. His face was still a flushed, blushing mess and he looked disbelievingly at me.

"Y-You want me to keep going?" He asked.

I've never heard him stutter before. For some reason, I found it... attractive.

"Keep going or I'll tell everyone."

So he did, and I've had him under my thumb since. I'd order him to touch himself while I watch, and hesitantly he'd comply. He couldn't refuse, not when I knew his secret. He'd hide behind his pillow while his body trembled and his toes curled in pleasure. I had long realized that my ever growing eagerness to watch him was not normal, but I hardly cared. I liked watching him. Watching him was enough.

But he proved me wrong again.

Even though we had such a relationship, the distance between us never closed. I grew frustrated, and it became annoyingly evident especially when he wouldn't stop yapping about his beloved priest. I didn't like how he'd willingly do any task for the man when it was me who knew the nastiest parts of him. I hated the face he made whenever he came while thinking of someone else. I had become confused, and I hated it.

"I... don't want to do this anymore."

He finally said one day. I knew the time would come and was preparing for it. Still, I felt anger swell in my chest and before I could think it through, I grabbed him by the collar and forced a violent kiss on his soft lips.

"Me either." I caught myself saying. I don't know.

Maybe I did want something more.


End file.
